A Mother's Love
by JessieBess
Summary: A short story on Tom and Sybil's wedding and their mother's thoughts on them. First chapter is Mrs. Branson. Second chapter Cora. Third chapter covering both Mrs. Branson and Cora is now up.
1. Chapter 1

She was up a bit earlier than usual today, not that she had planned it that way. Kathleen Branson quietly padded down the hall pausing at the door to the bedroom where her soon to be daughter-in-law was sleeping. She was surprised that Sybil appeared to be sleeping so soundly for she would have thought the girl would be a bundle of nerves on this her wedding day.

Taking advantage of the quietness of the house, a very rare occurrence, Kathleen sat alone at her kitchen table drinking a mug of steaming tea. She looked around the battered wooden table that took up half of the floor space of the small room, her eyes lingering on the chair where her beloved Joe had always sat. It had been over ten years since he had last sat in that chair but Kathleen could still picture him there as if it was yesterday.

As she sat in the stillness of the early morning, enjoying the peace and quiet, sipping her tea, Kathleen's thoughts drifted to her son Tom.

Tommy reminded her so much of his father. He had the Branson good looks with his sparkling blue eyes and that cheeky grin. But it wasn't only his looks that reminded her of Joe but he also had much of Joe's personality too. Of all her children Kathleen Branson expected the most from her son Tom.

It is said that mothers love all their children equally and Kathleen Branson would certainly agree with this statement. Yet, as with most mothers, Kathleen acknowledged the differences in her children. Certainly Kate was the kindest and most warm-hearted while Connor was the grumpiest. Ciaran was the quietest while Sinead was an incessant talker. Tom was the smartest while Donal was the most spirited.

He was born on a lovely spring day, the kind of day that is all too rare in Ireland with a warm breeze gently blowing, billowy clouds dotting the sky, and not a drop of rain all day. As he was her fourth child in seven years, she knew what to expect and the labor was relatively easy though of course not without pain but it was mercifully short as if once he decided to enter this world he did so without delay and just four hours after the first contraction he was born.

Tomas Daniel Branson. They had decided on the name a month or two before his birth, he'd be named after both of his grandfathers. While he'd never meet Daniel Branson who had been in his grave for almost fifteen years, Tomas Garret was very much alive and would travel east from Althone to meet his newest grandchild the following month.

As Kathleen Branson held her newborn son, wearing only a cloth used as a nappy and wrapped in a soft cotton blanket, in her arms she relished the peace and quiet for seldom was the Branson house this quiet. The older Branson children had been sent five doors down to their Aunt Briana's house and they would remain there until later in the evening, after dinner and after their father Joe Branson had returned from work and spent a few minutes alone with his wife and newborn son.

Her sister Eileen arrived from Wicklow just before the birth and would stay for four or five days while Kathleen recovered from childbirth. Between Eileen, Briana, and the neighbors, meals would be cooked and the older Branson children looked after. But by the end of the week things would be back to normal in the Branson household albeit with one more mouth to feed and one more to add to the noise of the lively Branson family.

Tommy was usually awake by the time Kathleen finished dressing and she'd take him to the kitchen with her as she prepared breakfast. As she did every morning, Kathleen Branson rose early. Her husband would leave for the factory by 5 am to make it there for the start of his shift at 6. She always tried to fix him a hearty breakfast before packing his lunch, usually a sandwich on thick bread that she baked several times a week. If he was lucky the fillings might be leftover meat from the previous night's dinner but more likely it would be some cheese or pickled vegetables or when there had been unexpected expenses that week it might only be bread with butter.

This particular work day was special for it was Tommy's first birthday. With the scarce Branson finances, there would be no celebration with cake or gifts which seemed especially wasteful for a child too young to even understand what the day meant. However, Kathleen would acknowledge the day by taking Tommy to morning mass for a blessing from the parish priest.

Her face beaming, Kathleen watched as the old priest took her youngest son into his arms. As he said a prayer for the child's good health and life, Tommy stopped squirming and stared at the priest's face. Even when the priest laid his hand on the top of Tommy's head as he continued to pray for the child, Tommy continued to stare at the priest's face. When the priest finished and smiled at him, Tommy's face erupted into a big grin showing all four of his teeth.

Kathleen had always dreamed that if her life had been different, if she hadn't been born in a poor family where the children were expected to work as soon as they could hold a broom, that she would have become a school teacher. She had found a kindred soul in Joe Branson who dreamed of having a job where he used his brains instead of his brawn. Although neither would ever achieve their dreams, the poverty of their world was just to overpowering, they wanted their children to have the opportunities they never had so from a very young age the importance of an education was instilled in all the Branson children.

Since he was a toddler, Tom had displayed a curiosity and an interest in the world around him. Kathleen would swear he learned to talk earlier than her other children and she was sure he learned to walk earlier than her other children. It was as if he didn't want to miss out on what his older sister and brothers were doing and he wanted to be a part of it.

From an early age he had also displayed an interest in books. While many might think spending precious money on books was a frivolity, Joe and Kathleen didn't think so. Joe had built a small bookcase, it was only three shelves, but it was filled with books. One shelf contained only children's books which were considered precious commodities in the Branson household. Although he couldn't read, three year old Tommy would sit and look at each page of a book as if he could decipher the written words if he stared at them long enough.

Probably one of the most exciting days in his life was Tommy's first day at school. Much to her surprise, he was dressed and ready to go well before it was time to leave the house. Even the gentle teasing of his older brothers didn't dampen his spirits. She was happy that he came home from school just as excited showing her his notebook and pencil and while she prepared dinner he sat in the kitchen with her reliving his day in such detail that she was finished her work before he was finished telling about his day.

He retained his excitement for school and his love of learning as the years went by. She knew he often read far into the night but as long as he got up on time she wouldn't admonish him. Books filled his head with ideas especially in the area of politics and social justice but he was also drawn to stories of ancient civilizations and faraway places.

But books weren't the only love of Tom's for he developed an interest in motor cars which wasn't really surprising considering he had always had an interest in mechanical things especially how they worked. He had only been about five when he took apart an alarm clock to see how it worked. Unfortunately he wasn't so good at putting it back together. Yet that didn't deter young Tommy. When anything broke in the house, like a faucet that dripped or one of the rare children's toys, Tommy would be the one to try and fix it.

Although Kathleen and Joe were determined that none of their children would leave school to work in a factory, they did expect the boys to work for a couple of hours after school and on Saturdays. When Tom was ten he began working an hour every day after school and four hours on Saturdays at a grocer's where he stocked shelves, carried crates or swept the floors after closing time.

It was there that Tom got his first glimpses of a life outside his own neighborhood for the store was at the edge of their neighborhood and most of its business was for a neighborhood that was a bit wealthier than the Branson's. He saw children who came into the store after school who had the money to buy candy. The store carried fruits such as strawberries, peaches and nectarines and vegetables like celery and asparagus which had never or rarely graced the Branson dinner table since they were usually out of the Branson's price range. Mr. Hanaran, the owner, was a very nice man and impressed with Tom's willingness to work hard he let Tom take home fruit or vegetables that were too bruised or wilted or overripe to sell. That was a bigger bonus for the Branson than the few shillings Tom earned.

Although Tom liked working for Mr. Hanaran he was soon drawn to his love of motor cars and when he was twelve he left the grocer's to work on Saturdays at a garage. There he did the odds and ends such as fetching tools or polishing cars. He wasn't an apprentice so what he learned about motor cars was simply from paying attention to what was going on around him. He soon knew what tools were needed by a mechanic without having to be asked.

Even all these years later, Kathleen vividly remembered the day Joe Branson died. One morning he left for work, giving her a kiss goodbye as he always did, but he never came home again. That afternoon he had a heart attack while working on the plant floor. Joe was a good man, a loving father and husband, and Kathleen never truly got over his death.

The grief of losing her husband and her love was compounded by losing the family's income. By the time of his death her oldest two sons were finished school and working full time. The oldest, Connor, was in his third year traveling the world as a deck hand on a cargo ship. The family always readily devoured the letters and postcards he sent from every port of call. When such mail arrived, they'd sit together and read the letter or card and look at an atlas to mark exactly where he had been. At the time of his father's death, Connor hadn't been home in almost seven months and it would be another three months before his ship docked once again in Ireland.

To her everlasting regret, Joe's death had the most effect on Tom with the immediate result that he had to leave school at the age of fifteen and go to work full time. This broke Kathleen's heart as she thought that Tom would be the first of her children to attend university.

In the mysterious ways of the world, or God's Plan as Kathleen would say, it was fortuitous that Tom was working at the garage. He was able to begin working full time as a mechanic. Yet Tom wasn't satisfied with just working on motor cars, he also wanted to drive them. He talked the garage owner into letting him learn to drive saying that it would only be through driving a motor car that one would know if the problems had actually been fixed.

Kathleen stifled a laugh as she thought of the cheekiness of her son. But that was Tom, so confident in his abilities and his willingness to go after what he wanted.

Six years later Tom would leave Ireland for England. She hated that another of her sons would be leaving Ireland but she understood. The job of chauffeur at Downton paid almost twice what he had been earning as the chauffeur for that old lady. _I'll only spend a few years there Ma_ he had said. _Just long enough to save more money than I could ever do so here._ That she could understand.

What she had never imagined that day she said goodbye to him at the ferry dock was the turn his life would take, that it would be years before he came back, and that when he returned to Ireland to live he wouldn't be alone.


	2. Chapter 2

As Kathleen Branson sat at her kitchen table thinking about her son, miles away in Yorkshire, England, Cora Crawley was wide awake but still in her bed. Unlike Kathleen, Cora had the everyday luxury of eating breakfast in bed as witnessed by the tray covering her lap. Yet other than the steaming cup of tea, Cora hadn't touched the tray with its usual plate of scrambled eggs accompanied by toast with butter and orange marmalade.

When O'Brien had brought the breakfast tray, Cora told her she would ring for her when she was ready to get dressed. Usually O'Brien would be readying Cora's clothes for the morning while Cora ate her breakfast but today Cora wanted some time alone. Hearing her dismissal O'Brien looked questioningly at her ladyship but Cora was staring at her breakfast tray as if it was alien to her.

O'Brien started to ask if her ladyship was feeling well when she realized what day it was. She glanced once again at Cora and momentarily felt a pang of sorrow for her but then she hurried out of the room thinking what fools.

Cora was glad when Robert had left for breakfast in the dining room leaving her alone for on this morning she had no desire for conversation with him. She had only been pretending to still be asleep when she heard him begin stirring for in reality she had been awake for hours. She sat there in her bed, leaning against a wall of plump pillows, firmly grasping the tea cup with both hands, her eyes starring unseeingly across the room, for in her mind her vision was of her daughter.

The newborn Sybil so pink and plump. Sybil trying to blow out the singular candle on her first birthday cake. Sybil chasing after the dog as fast as her chubby little legs could run. Sybil sitting on her lap, tears running down her face, Cora trying to comfort her after she had fallen. Sybil smiling and clapping as the Christmas tree was lit. Sybil radiant in her blue gown at her coming out ball. Sybil … so many images went flying through her head.

By marrying Robert, Cora had gained not only a husband and a title but also a new style of life, one that had existed for years with a very stringent set of rules of conduct. Her first years of marriage were more difficult than she could have imagined thanks mainly to having to live with her in-laws. Since the house was clearly the domain of Violet, Cora was adrift with nothing to do. Well that wasn't exactly true. Cora did have one job to do and that was to produce an heir which meant having a son for in England, unlike America, only a son could inherit the title and the estate.

The dismay that Cora's first born was a daughter was only tempered by the fact that she was young and healthy and that future children would surely be forthcoming. Her in-laws were heartened when Cora became pregnant again so soon after Mary's birth but this time the disappointment in her failure to have a son was more palpable. Her mother-in-law snickered at Cora failing at this task which she herself had been able to do. It was just one more constant source of irritation between the two women.

Edith's birth was followed by years of frustration and disappointment when Cora failed to become pregnant again. By the time Cora did become pregnant for the third time, Robert was now the Earl having inherited the title when his father died shortly after Edith's birth and Cora was the Countess.

It was a very warm August day when Cora went into labor. She had been surprised when she had gone into labor almost two full weeks from when the child was expected. Cora smiled now as she thought that was just like Sybil, to enter the world on her own time table. Although this was her third child, her labor was no easier than it had been for Mary or Edith but it was mercifully shorter.

Cora knew what it meant when the Dr. Clarkson pronounced the child a healthy baby girl, she knew the disappointment that once again faced Robert and his mother. She was so engrossed with her newborn daughter that she didn't see Robert standing at the open doorway of her bedroom watching her coo softly to their daughter who she held in her arms.

Any concerns she had of Robert's disappointment in the child once again being a girl vanished the moment he sat beside her on their bed. He smiled warmly as he softly kissed her forehead before looking at the baby who was wrapped in a soft light blue blanket. He gently moved the blanket so he could get a better look at the baby who obliged her father by flailing her arms and opening her bright blue eyes. She seemed to stare directly at him with her mouth forming a perfect O and then quietly closing.

They had chosen the names Mary Josephine and Edith Victoria, good English names, just in case the baby was a female. But for this child, although neither had spoken aloud of the reason, they hadn't picked a girl's name prior to the birth. It was Robert who decided to name her Sybil Cora as he sat there holding her for the first time. _She's so beautiful. She looks like you with her dark hair and bright blue eyes._ Even now all these years later she could remember how his face glowed. _Sybil from the ancient Greeks. She'll be something special._ He had said with conviction as he looked down at the tiny bundle he held in his arms.

Cora Crawley, the Countess of Grantham, would also agree with the statement that mothers love all their children equally. She'd also agree with Kathleen Branson that even though she loved her children equally she acknowledged the differences in her girls.

When she had Mary, she had still been intimated by her mother-in-law who frowned on Cora spending much time with the infant. It wasn't their way Violet had insisted, children are raised by their nannies. She might have fought back harder but then she became pregnant with Edith and had been sick for much of the early months of her pregnancy. Once she had Edith she realized how difficult it was to have to a newborn and a 13 month old especially since in those first months when Edith was colicky and Mary was always demanding her mother's attention.

But it was different by the time she had Sybil. For one thing, Violet was no longer living at the Abbey but at the Dowager House and so she was no longer under constant scrutiny. She had now been living in England long enough that she was familiar with their ways, she was older and more confident in herself and, more importantly, she was no longer intimated by her mother-in-law, well not always. She was now free to run the household her way.

And Sybil had made it easier too. She had been the most delightful baby with her chubby cheeks and that ready toothless grin that lit up her whole face. Unlike her sisters who had demanded attention, little Sybil seemed content laying in her crib, gurgling to herself, her legs and arms flailing in the air as her eyes and hands explored the narrow world around her. That should have been a clue as to how independent and adventurous Sybil would be thought Cora.

Independent and adventurous … how that set Sybil apart from her sisters. Even as a young child Mary was very much Lady Mary with her good manners, her haughtiness and imperiousness. Edith though much quieter and more timid than Mary but she too could be just as imperious. Neither had the exuberance of Sybil.

Yes she loved all her girls but Sybil had been the easiest to love.

Even now, thinking of Sybil she could only see the child who laughed so easily, the child who wanted to run barefoot on the lawn with her hair blowing freely in the wind, the child who saw the beauty in flowers, the child who was content to sit in her father's lap while he read to her.

But Sybil was no longer a child, she was a young woman. She was older than Cora had been when she married. Thanks to the war, she was not as naïve as Cora had been then.

I never told her how proud I was of her being a nurse Cora thought. Like with everything she did, Sybil had put her heart into her nursing and had become a wonderful nurse. She had worked so hard during those years, never complaining about the work, always willing to learn, always willing to do whatever was asked of her.

Why did I think she'd be content to go back to life as it was before the war? If I was honest with myself I'd admit even I sometimes long for those days when I ran the convalescent home, when I had a purpose, when I had something meaningful to fill my days.

I didn't see that those days when Sybil became involved in politics and women's rights as a harbinger for what was to come. I thought it was just a phase … just … just something she'd get over. That she would soon realize she was Lady Sybil Crawley and that there was a path she was to take.

Sybil was so stubborn. Sybil always wanted her way. How many times did I wipe the tears on her face when she had hurt herself doing something she had been forbidden to do?

She had never been interested in tradition. Mary was always so dutiful. Edith was always trying to please. Sybil … Cora shook her head slightly … Sybil never cared about what was expected of her. Is that how she had gotten to this point? How she had fallen in love with the chauffeur?

Moving her breakfast tray to the other side of the bed, Cora rose from her bed. She opened the drawer in the bedside table and removed a cream colored envelope. She reached inside the envelope and drew out the contents. It was only one page.

Slipping on her robe she softly walked over to one of the windows that looked out at the great expanse of the estate. In the distance she could she a lone figure walking with a dog following close behind. She watched as the figure threw a stick and the dog ran to catch it. But the dog didn't run back to her owner instead she sat down, the stick firmly in her mouth, waiting for her owner to catch up with her.

Cora glanced at the clock sitting on her bedside table, not that she had anything to do or anywhere to be. Well that wasn't really true. There was someplace she should have been. She glanced back out the window and to her husband in the distance.

She stood like that for several minutes watching Robert. Then she looked down at the paper in her hand. Tears fell down her cheeks as she read the words.

 _Sybil Crawley_

 _and_

 _Tom Branson_

 _Request the Honor of Your Presence_


	3. Chapter 3

It was a lovely morning in early June, a perfect day for a wedding with the weather cooperating by dawning sunny with the few billowy clouds in the sky not threatening rain. Although it might be a perfect day for a wedding, the tiny wedding that would take place that day at St. Brigid's, a small church in a lower middle class neighborhood of Dublin, would not be considered perfect by some who knew the bride and groom.

Kathleen, still sitting at her kitchen table, was surprised when Sybil appeared in the kitchen for she hadn't realized how long she had been sitting here reminiscing although the streaks of sunlight that now filtered through the pale lace kitchen curtains should have been an indication.

"There's water for tea in the kettle" Kathleen said not thinking that it had long grown cold.

"Thank you but the motor car from the hotel is already here" Sybil replied.

"Oh!" Kathleen sounded a bit flustered as she suddenly realized the time. She had been surprised when Sybil returned here to spend the night instead of staying with her sisters in that fancy hotel. Briefly she wondered why neither of her daughters, Kate and Sinead, who still lived at her home had not yet made an appearance before thinking they had probably spent the time in Sybil's bedroom. Those two girls she thought were looking forward to this wedding almost as much as Sybil unlike Sybil's own sisters.

"I hadn't realized the time" Kathleen said as she glanced at the large clock hanging on the wall over the stove. Of course Sybil hadn't come to the kitchen for tea or breakfast since she'd be eating breakfast at the hotel with her la-di-da sisters. It was there that Sybil would get ready for her wedding.

"I just want to thank you again for …" Sybil looked directly at the woman that in a matter of hours would be her mother-in-law "for all you've done for me. Letting me stay here, showing me how to …"

Kathleen cut her off before Sybil could finish "it's the least I could do." She wouldn't voice her opinion that she did it for her son's sake.

Kathleen rose from her chair. "After all you'll soon be my daughter." Then surprising Sybil she gingerly hugged the younger woman.

As sharp as ever, Kathleen could see the tears that Sybil was battling to hold back. "Now … now …" she started as she continued to hold Sybil and patted her on the back. "It looks like it will be a lovely day and you'll be a beautiful bride. Now you better get yourself to that motor car, you don't want to be late."

Sybil nodded, her face breaking out in a big grin before surprising Kathleen by lightly kissing her on the cheek and then dashing out of the room. The last minute had been the closest physical contact the two women had ever shared.

Following closely behind Sybil, Kathleen came to the front parlor where she was joined by Kate and Sinead. The three of them watched from the large front window as Sybil said something to the uniformed chauffeur who held the door for her. She noted the man said something back to Sybil before closing the passenger door and walking around to the driver's seat with a grin on his face.

She wondered if Sybil had told him she was marrying a former chauffeur today. It was hard to imagine that it had only been three months ago when she had received Tom's letter telling her he was returning to Ireland and intended to marry. She wouldn't deny that she hadn't been pleased when he had written that he was marrying the Lady Sybil Crawley the youngest daughter of his employer.

When she had written to Tom agreeing to let Sybil stay with her until the wedding, Kathleen had tried to prepare him for what he and his English Protestant aristocratic bride-to-be would face in Dublin, had hoped that her words would cause Tom to reconsider but of course her son hadn't heeded her words. Tommy, even with all his smarts, was often a dreamer. Only he would have the audacity to think that he could win the heart of someone like Lady Sybil.

They had decided for Sybil's safety as well as that of Kathleen and Kate, Sinead and Donal who still lived in the family home that they would not tell people of Sybil's background. It would of course be apparent when the girl spoke that she was English but there was no need to publicize the fact that she was actually Lady Sybil Crawley the youngest daughter of the Earl of Grantham.

Kathleen was now embarrassed that her first thoughts about her future daughter-in-law hadn't been pleasant. She couldn't help but wonder why the daughter of a rich Englishman would want to marry a lower middle class Irish lad and she feared that once the girl came to Ireland and saw what she was really getting into she'd take the first boat back to England leaving a heart broken Tom.

But Sybil had surprised her. In many ways she was the type of woman that Kathleen had always thought Tom would marry, smart, independent, full of ideas as to how the world should be. She was also kind and warm-hearted which could mask her strong will and stubbornness. Kate and Sinead had bonded with her almost immediately. Although she thought the road ahead would still be rough for Tom and Sybil, she was pleased when Sybil admitted to her that she had kept Tom waiting for so long not because she doubted she loved him but that she wanted to be sure she could leave her old life behind.

* * *

As she walked to her place in the front pew of the small Catholic church, the church she had attended since moving to Dublin so many years ago and where all her children had been baptized, Kathleen noted that the small chapel wasn't even half full. _They'll love her when they get to know her Ma._ When Tom had told her this, Kathleen had shaken her head. _You haven't been here for years son. You don't know how bad it's become._ She knew many of their relatives and friends would not accept Sybil regardless of how nice she was, maybe once Ireland was free, but not now. And she had been right as witnessed by the empty pews.

Kathleen sighed in sorrow. She looked at the beautiful swatches of green and white fabric that had been tied into big bows and draped at the end of the first four pews on both sides of the aisle. Two large urns filled with an array of colorful flowers stood on the floor near the altar filling the church with their sweet fragrance. The church looked lovely and it should have been full as it was on the day her oldest daughter Iona had married here almost three years ago.

Tom and Sybil deserved better and for the first time Kathleen felt ashamed of her relatives many of whom had stayed away from her house since Sybil's arrival. Some would see Tom at the pub but some avoided him too which especially hurt Kathleen since they had known him since his birth.

Kathleen knew from the sudden silence of those around her that Sybil's sisters had entered the church. She watched as her son Donal escorted the two women to the front pew across the aisle from Kathleen. Both nodded at her before they took their seats and then stared straight ahead as if the altar of this small Catholic church was a fascinating sight.

Looking at the two smartly dressed women, in outfits that probably cost more than anyone in this church made in a lifetime, Kathleen couldn't help but think how different Sybil was from her sisters. Kathleen had invited them to dinner last night but feigning tiredness from the trip they declined asking instead Kathleen and her family come to tea at the hotel. Mercy thought Kathleen. As if the Shelbourne wanted the likes of them.

It was Sybil who immediately realized Kathleen's discomfort regarding the Shelbourne and so somehow she persuaded her sisters to come to the Branson house for tea. They were polite but stiff and stayed for barely one hour. They were clearly uncomfortable but whether it was because of their surroundings or because of the impending wedding Kathleen wasn't sure. She felt no warmth from either of them which was such a contrast to the outgoing and warm-hearted Sybil.

Yet Kathleen could detect the love they had for their sister especially the dark haired one. In some ways she couldn't blame them for being concerned about their sister's new life. She wondered anew how the romance between Tom and Sybil had ever escaped the notice of Sybil's family until it was too late. From his letters which he sent regularly, Kathleen had an inkling that Tom had fallen in love with the Earl's younger daughter. She was a sea away and had detected it why hadn't those around them, who actually saw them daily, detected it she wondered. Was it just another indication that people like the Crawleys didn't really see those that waited on them as people, people with hopes and dreams and feelings and desires.

As she looked now at the Crawley sisters, Kathleen couldn't help but think of Sybil's absent parents. If you love your child, you have to accept their decisions she thought. As a mother she couldn't imagine missing such an important day in her child's life. And to miss it because they … Kathleen looked at her son now standing at the altar waiting for his bride. He might not be rich or titled but he was a good man, kind and decent, smart and hard-working, and deeply in love with their daughter.

At that moment Kathleen closed her eyes and made a special prayer asking God to take care of Tom and Sybil. With so much, and so many, against them, she prayed that their love would sustain them in whatever they faced.

* * *

Cora had no idea how long she stood at her bedroom window staring out the window without really seeing, her hand still grasping the wedding invitation. Robert had long since moved out of sight wandering further away from the house.

 _You gave them your blessing._

 _What else could I do? She was going to leave with him regardless of what I said._

 _But you won't go to the wedding?_

 _He looked at her as if she had suddenly grown horns._

 _Of course not Cora. There is no way we could ever go. It's not safe there now for someone like me … like us._

 _But she's our daughter Robert._

 _Do you approve of her actions?_

She played that conversation over and over in her head. Of course she knew it wasn't safe in Ireland for an English Lord, she had much to Robert's chagrin begun to read an Irish newspaper wanting to know more about the place her daughter would now call home, but although she was Lady Grantham she wasn't English. She was American, a fact that her mother-in-law and even her daughter Mary constantly referred to unflatteringly as if it made her inferior to the English and by implication them.

That Mary and Edith had been allowed to attend the wedding wasn't so much that Robert was any less concerned for their safety but more that it was, in Robert's mind at least, one last chance to change Sybil's mind and prevent her from making this grave mistake. No one outside the family knew of her flight to Ireland and if she came back now her reputation wouldn't be ruined. Even if she hadn't known about this thing with Branson until it was too late, Cora knew even if her husband didn't that it was now too late, and she knew her daughter well enough to know she wouldn't change her mind.

The Crawley sisters had taken the overnight ferry, arriving the day before the wedding. Under strict orders not to leave their hotel except to attend the wedding, the plan was for them to have Sybil visit them at the hotel on the day of their arrival and let her know that she was welcomed to return with them. In fact if she agreed to come back they would leave that evening.

If Sybil had agreed to come home, they would have heard from Mary by now since she would have telephoned when they arrived in Liverpool. But Mary hadn't rung. Cora thought she would have been more surprised if Sybil had changed her mind. She glanced once more at the clock on the fireplace mantle and saw that it was half past noon and grimaced as she realized that Sybil was now Lady Sybil Branson.

 _She's our daughter Robert._

 _Do you approve of her actions?_

It wasn't wanted she wanted for her daughter. How proud she had been at Sybil's season for her lovely daughter had been quite the success with her numerous invitations to balls and parties and dinners and teas, so many that she couldn't possibly attend them all and her dance cards at the many balls she did attend were completely filled. Sybil's own ball at Grantham House had been a sought after invitation. Cora blinked back tears as she remembered how stunning Sybil had looked that night in her midnight blue silk gown. She had been so sure that gentlemen would soon be arriving at Downton with the hopes of courting the Earl of Grantham's youngest daughter but instead war had been declared and that changed everything.

Or so she thought at the time and had continued to think until that night **he** walked into the drawing room. Oh how could she have been so blind?

 _This is what comes from spoiling her._

 _That's not fair._

 _She's forgotten who she is._

 _Or have we overlooked who she really is?_

Even during the excitement of her season, Sybil had never given any indication that she was interested in any of the men she danced or talked with or for that matter that she was interested in marriage. Unlike her sisters, Sybil had never talked about presiding over a large house, of hosting dinners or garden parties. As a child she would rather play outdoors running around or climbing trees than play with her dolls or have pretend tea parties. It seemed the only time she was sedate was when she was reading and her favorite books were adventure stories or about faraway lands never stories of Princes and Princesses like those favored by Edith.

The politics. The canvassing. The women's rights. The nursing. None of it had been a phase for Sybil. Was that were they had gone wrong? If they had listened more to their daughter would they still be facing this situation? If they had let her go to school when she had begged them … if they had let her continue nursing … if they had let her … if they had let her just be her.

 _I don't bow and scrape, and I've not seduced anyone. Give your daughter some credit for knowing her own mind._

That had been the appeal of Branson … he had accepted her for who she was. He had seen their daughter so much more clearly than she or Robert had and that is what had been, and still was, so hard for Cora to accept for it made her feel that she had been a failure as a mother.

Cora was startled by how little she knew about the man who had won the heart of her daughter for she was sure from the way they had looked at each other that night in the drawing room, the way they had taken strength from each other, the way they had faced her family together, that they were in love.

Other than being Irish and Catholic she knew almost nothing about him. Robert had been amused at first by the lad's appetite for books saying that Branson had probably read more of the books in the library than any Crawley had.

In her letter to Sybil she had asked her to write about Branson, no Tom she had to remind herself to say for he was no longer Branson the chauffeur but Tom her son-in-law. She wanted to know about his new job as a journalist, to know about his family, to know about their life together but most of all she wanted to know about the man himself. She wanted Sybil to allay the fears she had of the life Sybil would live in Dublin.

She had sent the letter with Mary and Edith. According to the society in which she lived, Cora realized the impropriety of her and Robert attending the wedding although in her heart she didn't agree. After all, Sybil was her daughter and would always be loved by her despite her choice of husband.

But the letter wasn't all Cora had sent. She had saved most of her allowance for the past two months and had sent that fearing Sybil would have more need of that than she did. But the letter and money were only part of what Cora sent with Mary and Edith.

While Robert was loathe to send a wedding present Cora wasn't and so without his knowledge or consent, in probably her only act of defiance in all her years of marriage, she had filled a trunk with household items. There was so much sitting around the house unused or unneeded, that Cora was easily able to fill a trunk with practical items such as sheets, blankets, towels, tablecloths, dishes, and silverware.

She had been honest with Robert when she told him this marriage wasn't what she wanted for Sybil. But Sybil had made her decision and Cora had decided she would accept it for if not she would lose her daughter forever and that was something Cora could not and would not accept. To Cora a mother's love was forever.

 _Thanks to all who have read this story and especially to those who took the time to leave a review. I might do another chapter covering Mary/Edith and Robert and the wedding - but on second thought that wouldn't fit in with the title of this story._


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